


Sympathy For The Devil

by lifelesslyndsey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Casifer, M/M, angel!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:36:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/lifelesslyndsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Come the end, the apocolypse depended on Castiel's understanding of human nature and Lucifer's understanding of Castiel.</p><p>Now with art!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Starts in 5x10 'Abandon All Hope'  
> Beware of spoilers for all of season five, after that I'll be making this crap up as I go.  
> None of the mentioned characters are mine, nor do I profit from the following story.  
> All entities following belong to who they belong.

 

 

                                                        

 

 He looked at him through a ring of fire and saw a bit of himself, if not more faithful. “Oh Castiel,” he murmured, wishing he could reach through that flame and touch the angel. “I think I've missed you. You've grown up, little brother. Your grace is beautiful.” It reminded Lucifer of tarnished silver, shining through worn. Castiel had done things, said things, thought things, and they painted smudges across his shimmering soul but to Lucifer who's grace was black, it was beautiful.

Castiel looked away, staring down into the fire. “Doubtless,” he murmured. “You, like both Gabriel and Anael, spared no passing glance before turning wing and leaving so many behind. You miss no one.”

“Not true,” Lucifer denied, something welling in this throat, tight and painful. Castiel had been little more than a Cherub when Lucifer had fallen. He had heard through he demonic grapevine that since he rebelled, no new Angels had been brought to light. Castiel was Heaven's own baby.

Turning hi blue eyes, bright and cruel and so fitting for young Castiel, his brother frowned. “Do you claim remorse?”

Remorse! Ah, but to be asked was sweet. Many did not think to ask him, not that it mattered much.“I do not regret what I did Castiel,” he said quietly. “Surely you understand now? You've lived among them.”

“Humans,” Castiel confirmed. “Yes, I have lived among them, and  _they_  are beautiful. They are light, and love, and soul. If I die for them, it will not be in vain.”

Lucifer felt the edges of his own tattered grace flare and stretch at Castiel's willful vehemence. “Even if it is not God's will?”

He watched as dark lashes fluttered against Castiel's pale face, guiltily. “There is no one left to speak the will of God. I must do as I believe is right. What I do...I do for Him.”

“But of your own accord,” Lucifer murmured, stepping closer to the flame. Castiel did not move, and Lucifer pressed his grace against the line of the flame, searchingly. “You do as  _you_  believe is right.”

“I do,” Castiel denied nothing. “For the love of all God's creatures,” he added, narrowing his eyes at Lucifer. “Do not begin to claim we are the same, Elder Brother.”

“I did what I did for the love of God's first creation! For us, Castiel. He bid us love them as we loved him and I could not.” This time it is he who looked away first. “I cannot. Let them be beautiful, they are not Him.”

The crisp touch of grace against his own startled him, and when at last he looked up he found Castiel staring at him in thought. Castiel's grace met his own at the edge of the fire. It was like breathing the first breath of fresh air after choking on smoke for centuries. In equal measure, however, it was  _torture_. The flames burned, but the feeling of another Angel was a homecoming he did not know he desired.

“Do you so truly believe,” Castiel said, wrapping Lucifer up in his grace like a blanket, and suffocating him with it. “That loving God's creations is any different then loving Him ? They are Him, Elder Brother, built in His image, built of His light and love. They are Him, and to love them is to love Him.”He could tell that it hurt Castiel to push himself through the flames, as blood began to trickle from his vessel's nose. Still, he continued, till Lucifer was so wrapped up in Castiel, he could feel little else. 

“He loves them above us,” Lucifer snarled, wriggling beneath he onslaught of Castiel's gentle torture. “And for the gift of His love, they murder and rape. They are ungrateful.”

“It is their choice,” Castiel replied. “Why must you quantify His love? He loves all His Children, human and Angel alike. Let it be enough for you brother!”

“It will never be enough!” He made to tear his grace, and found that he could not.

“Is it what you wished for?” Castiel asked, his rough, flat voice soothing. Through the mouth of the vessel, Lucifer fancied he could hear the sound of Castiel's true voice. Even though the words were cruel, the sound was beautiful. “Is it what you wished it to be? Your demons, your minions, your new  _brothers_ ; are they everything you desired?”

Wrapped as he was in Castiel's Grace, Lucifer did not see the point in lying. “No,” he said, shamelessly. “The filthy hell spawn that dwell in my Kingdom and do their bidding are no brothers of mine. I wanted freedom, not chaos.”

“Your demons twist a gift that does not even belong to them,” Castiel preached. “You speak of murder, and rape at the hands of humans, but what better are your demons? He created this Earth, and they sully it. You may hold no love for the humans, but you love our Father. You love him and yet you let your demons taint what is His. His gift of freewill. ”

“I have no choice,” Lucifer growled, clenching his fists as the cherub...no, no the seraph -Castiel had grown while he was gone- lectured him.

His eyes unwavering, Castiel cocked his head. “But isn't that what you fell for? So you could have  _choice_?” Castiel shook his head. “I feel nothing but shame for you.”

It was a lie, even through the raging storm that was Castiel's grace, Lucifer could still feel that tiny, broken strand of love, thin worn and reserved for the lowest creatures; the murderers, the rapists, and Lucifer. Even though it was repugnant to him, the young Seraph would never forget to love.

Castiel _was_ ashamed of Lucifer. He was ashamed and hurt and abandoned. He ached, a welling pit of despair that would have fit in Hell itself. His brother was in agony, desperate to save this wretched world, prepared to die for it. Lucifer struggled against his brother's grace, wanting to be free of it, and still found that he could not. Castiel felt too much.

“Release me,” he snarled, wondering why he should need to. He was an archangel, powerful and mighty. Castiel was nothing to him.

Castiel stood unblinkingly, gushing blood at the nose, mouth and ears now. “No.”

Standing helpless, Lucifer raged at the shame and sadness he felt in his brother. Oh and the suffering! How Castiel suffered, Lucifer could not bear it. “Release me, cherub!”

“I am a warrior now,  _His_  warrior!” His young brother growled right back, the shadows of his wings flashing miles long across the stone walls of the warehouse. “I have slain the enemy; I have battled. I have burned out the evils of the world. I have fought you, and your army of Sin, for so long I am dark with it. You have been gone some time, Elder Brother. I am not the infant you left behind. I am not the cherub you remember, Lucifer!” It sounded suspiciously like a _'you can't tell me what to do'_ , and Lucifer raged.

He struck Castie across the mouth, reaching his hand right over the flames. One could reach in, but not reach out. It still hurt of course, holy fire licking at his worn-thin vessel. Castiel reeled, lip splitting and gushing yet more blood.

He spat at Lucifer, bloody saliva wetting his face and fell to his knees, hands clenched at his side. Sharing his grace had strained him, left him weak. “Stop,” Lucifer begged now, as Castiel coughed up a mouthful of blood, and clenched his teeth to it, red oozing between each tooth. “Castiel, stop.”

More grace flooded him, sneaking into the cracks and crevices of his destroyed soul, as Castiel poured his pain into Lucifer. It cut deeper than any Angel's knife. Angels were not meant to feel this way, which could only mean Castiel was falling. The thought burned Lucifer to his bones; not Castiel, not him. “Why?” Castiel asked, feeling almost nothing but pain and sharing it all with Lucifer. “Why? Feel it brother! Feel it.”

“Castiel,” Lucifer whispered, pushing back weakly with his own grace in a strange effort to comfort. Castiel flinched, and Lucifer felt it. “If this is humanity, I feel even less remorse for it. You hurt! You're dying.”

“Then I die knowing you've felt this pain,” Castiel growled, wetly. Blood poured from the corners of his mouth, and he clutched his stomach. “This is betrayal, Morningstar. This is you.”

As he spoke, an explosion rocked the floor beneath them like an earthquake, a flash of fire glaring through the windows. The scent of smoke hanged heavy in the air, clouding the bright blue sky outside.

“No,” Castiel hissed, his graze wavering then exploding with such new levels of pain, Lucifer himself fell to his knees. “No!”

Lucifer could taste death in his mouth but knew it wasn't the Brother Vessels. He's know if his Vessel met death the instant it happened. “You mourne?”

“My friends are dead,” Castiel coughed, catching himself with one hand as he crumpled forward.

Beneath the pain, Lucifer felt Castiel's love for these friends, Ellen and Jo, he saw within his brothers mind. One old and one young, a mother and daughter. Castiel had loved them and now they were dead. Death seemed so simple but in the light of Castiel's pain, Castiel's despair, Lucifer wavered.

“Brother stop,” he begged, beneath the terrifying rain of endless ache. “Castiel, cherub,” he whispered, the word falling out like an endearment.

Castiel looked up at him through the flame, on all fours as he clutched his stomach and caught Lucifer's eyes. “I will never stop loving them in His name and in my own, Lucifer.”

He crumbled to the ground, unconscious, and his hand fell into the fire and laid there. Lucifer had never lost some one he....he cared about. It had been so long since he last loved his brothers he'd forgotten how, but here one lay face down in death, and Lucifer despaired.

He blew away the roof in an instant, and called down the rain. It smothered the fires, leaving nothing but a scorched black ring around his cherub's body. Scooping Castiel up, he touched his charred hand, and healed it slowly, pink webs of skin growing at his touch, painting each finger new and fresh.

It was against his own chest that he felt a heart beat, and one not his own. Castiel's chest rose and fell, and something in Lucifer swelled up like a balloon, settling in his Vessel's throat and choking him. Hope, he thought in an almost absent way, for hope was so long gone it seemed foreign to him.

 

 

To Be Continued. 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come the end, the apocolypse depended on Castiel's understanding of human nature and Lucifer's understanding of Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in 5x14 "My Bloody Valentine"   
> Beware of spoilers for any and all episodes in Season Five.  
> Supernatural is not mine, I'm just playing in their sandbox.

 Gabriel finds him, or rather Lucifer allows himself to be found by Gabriel. He stood on the sandy white shore of Lake Michigan, peering out into the crystal blue waves, white-caps rolling and breaking. It's beautiful, the line where blue meets blue on the horizon, their shades barely different but somehow decipherable. They reminded him of Castiel, and his grace.

“Castiel's fine,” Gabriel tells him, keeping his golden eyes on the horizon. “It was a close call though. Repairing his grace....it wasn't easy. If Jimmy Novak had been alive, Castiel would not have made it.”

Tearing his gaze away from the endless blue, Lucifer frowns at his brother. “You would have saved the human over your brother?”

“It's as he would have wanted,” Gabriel shrugs, unrepentant. “Castiel will never put himself over that of a human who still has faith. Novak was a faithful man, and now he's a faithful dead man. But...had I been forced to make a choice, I would have respected Castiel's wishes, I think.”

“And suffer for it?” Lucifer asks snidely. Gabriel was just as quick to abandon Heaven as Lucifer, if for entirely different reasons.

Gabriel's golden eyes flash, filling with the wrath of Judgment himself. “Don't,” he warns, proverbial feathers ruffling. “You think because I left that I am uncaring? I _did_ come when he needed me.”

“You did,” Lucifer accedes and turns his eyes back to the horizon, and it's familiar blue.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Gabriel asks aloud. “Just water and sky, but it's beautiful.”

There is more beneath his words then mere admiration. “Why did Castiel do it?” Lucifer asks, for surely Gabriel would have found the answer inside their little brother?

  


“What?” Gabriel huffs. “Do you even know _what_ he did?”

“He hurt himself to hurt me,” Lucifer mutters. “And to what end?”

He can feel Gabriel's own grace hum beside him, pushing in at the edges of Lucifer’s. He doesn't smother Lucifer, like Castiel did, but lingers at the precipice. The devil finds him yearning for the touch, but if Gabriel can feel the desire, he ignores it. “What did it feel like?” Gabriel asks. “When you felt him.”

“You must have touched his grace too,” Lucifer says in reply, frowning.

“I did,” Gabriel confirms. “I touched it, weaved my fingers through it, braided each of it's torn strands back together. I swam in it, soothing over all the dark spots of tarnish, and embracing what light was left. And he let me, invited me in with nothing but welcome” He gives Lucifer a glinting, challenging look. “It is as I remember; beautiful and cool, like mercury, and so despairingly young.”

So young.

The youngest.

Jealousy, Lucifer understands it like nothing else. After all his pit of despair, Hell itself, had been built on a foundation of jealousy and rebellion. “It hurt.” The words come out contemplative and frustrated. “It was torture. Castiel feels as no Angel should. He is falling.”

“He is not,” Gabriel snapped back. “You fall, and you are fallen. There is no _falling_. There is no transition, only faith. If Castiel had fallen, he'd be without his wings now. He is neither like Anna who craved humanity, or you who craved rebellion. He worships at the knee of our absent Father with no less credence than before. He does his best, and keeps his faith. It isn't easy, Lucifer. It's not falling, it's not so simple. There is no ground on which you find yourself, on which to run. He's strung up in between, struggling for a balance that will not damn him either way.”

“Like you,” Lucifer surmises, turning to look at Gabriel. “Like you.”

Gabriel turns his gaze back to the waters. “Yes,” he says after a fashion. “Like me. I've done a lot of things, but I still look to my father, even when he isn't there. That is faith. I have faith, as does Castiel. And you...” Gabriel shakes his head. “You rebel, but you are not without grace. I've never understood it.” He looks down, at the sand bright beneath their feet, each grain shining with it's own color. “Castiel though, his faith fails him. He might not be falling, but his grace is dying every day he doesn't find our Father. It's not enough to know that He is out there. Castiel wants more.”

Like Lucifer once did.

 

“What will happen to him?” Lucifer inquires, curiosity shimmering across his grace.

  
Gabriel cluck his tongue. “Nothing good, I'm sure. I doubt he'll ever lose all his love for Father, and with at least that much I believe he will live. That and no more.” Skimming across Gabriel's mind, Lucifer plucks thoughts of a drug-riddled, heavy-lidded Castiel who cares about little, but even less for himself. “That was what Zachariah once envisioned life should Dean Winchester refuse to say yes. I don't know how much truth is in it, however.”

Like much else, Lucifer refuses to acknowledge the possibility. “I am not without faith,” He replies instead, looking up into the sky. “In Him, I have faith, but in his faithless creatures I have none. And for that I was condemned.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Gabriel hums thoughtfully. “It was for more than that. What was it, Morning-star? Were you so threatened, as the first born, by the new baby that you simply couldn't stand it?”

“Why make them different?” Lucifer asks abruptly. “Why start new? Were we not good enough to merit his gifts? His Angels will love him as no man ever will, and yet he bestows such glory as Free Will upon infants too ignorant to know what to do with it.”

Gabriel cackled, a sharp biting sound that reminded Lucifer to the coyote his brother could be. “You took care of that, didn't you? Slippery little snake as always.”

“I simply opened their eyes to life.” Unrepentant, Lucifer shrugs. “It was his folly to keep them ignorant. The ignorant are weak and easily swayed.” They were sheep to him, and thus easily lead to the slaughter.

“You opened their eyes and they sinned, Elder Brother.” Gabriel is flying a kite when Lucifer turns his eyes back to him, a brilliant red diamond in the sky. “You opened their eyes to sin.”

“I suppose I did,” Lucifer agrees, watching the kite until it's little more then a bobbing red dot in a sky of blue.

“Then this world, the way that it is, is your fault,” He shoves the string to the kite in Lucifer’s hand and shares a sharp look with his brother. “Think about _that_.”

And then Gabriel is gone.

Lucifer tilts his head back to the bobbing kite and finds that it is blue. The string skip-stutters from his hand, and the kite drifts to the ground in a slow decent, air catching it only to let it go again. It hasn't yet hit the ground when he finds he can no longer watch, willing himself elsewhere.

*

It wasn't he who released the Horsemen, though he did nothing to stop it. Death comes when he calls, but he has since learned, watching his own brother bleed as he held him, that Death is a tricky thing. The horsemen are free, but the sense of victory had faded as fast as Castiel had in his arms.

Lucifer is unsure how he wishes to continue. Observation is needed.

It strikes him as odd though, as it is prophesied that the Four will ride by his hand. Having had no hand in it, he can only sit back and swim in his own vague confused amusement. Emotions, all but the strongest, are still stunted in his current vessel. His thoughts drift towards Samuel Winchester, and he longs for a skin of his own. Samuel Winchester _is_ his skin, rebellious and troublesome thing that he is.

He walks the Earth as he has not for a millennium, soaking in the scent of sin and daily fear. These creatures are little more than two-legged cockroaches, a resilient plague tainting the world. They scuttle, leaving nothing but disease and waste behind. Pestilence's presence is barely felt, for the humans have done his job heartily in his stead. They shit and they piss and they fuck . They spread disease with their bodies, mouths and minds. Disgusting creatures, humans. Absolutely _vile_.

How Famine makes himself known in a world already starving for everything is anyone’s guess. Humans crave a variety of things, things they need and want. Sex, power, money, beauty, time, excess. They have and want more.

Samuel Winchester is no different. He craves as a human does, with his whole body, with his whole essence. When Lucifer learns that one of his own vile children has died at the mouth of the Boy King himself, he is there in a moments flash. He mightn't be able to find Samuel Winchester, carved up as he is like a Holiday ham, but he can follow a trail when one is laid so prettily.

He hunts as the humans do.

What he finds instead is horrifying. His brother, his Castiel, on his knees in a pit of raw, stinking meat, fisting great lumps of the clove and hoof into his desperate maw. Elder Winchester is there as well, outwardly unaffected, but Lucifer can see what the boy craves inside.

Dean Winchester wants more than anything for his brother to be safe, to be okay, to be with him. As the Horsemen spouts his clever lies about how Dean is empty, how he is void of need, Lucifer can't help but laugh in the shadows where he hides. Dean cannot feel the effects of Famine because what he feels now, in this moment, is as he always feels. He always _desires_ to see his brother safe, okay, and with him. His brother is as important to him as the airs he breaths. It's instinctual, both bred into him, and finely honed after years and years. He desires to protect with the single mindedness of a warrior trained from infancy. His need today is no less desperate than any other.

When the Boy King arrives so saturated in the blood of the other, Lucifer is excited. This is what he has wanted, what _he_ has craved. He is strong, yes, but not unaffected by Famine. He wants to crawl inside the boy, and burn him out. He wants the flesh of the Baby Winchester to be his own. He wants to hear the word yes on his lips, wants it so bad he can almost taste it.

Surely the boy is wavering? He's spilled the blood of too many demons down his throat to have any good intentions. He kills, feeds, fucks, the beautiful little sinner. He is as dark as any of Lucifer’s own, surely? But as the Boy King raises his hand, tearing soul after soul from Famine's own belly, Lucifer finds himself wrong. Samuel Winchester is something else. Something Lucifer does not understand.

When he looks back to his own brother, he finds Castiel staring at him, blood on his own mouth, blue eyes wide.

“Cas?” Dean asks, his concern torn between his guardian and his charge. “Cas, are you okay?”

“I am fine,” Castiel tells him, his eyes never wavering from Lucifer’s own. “I am....I must go.” He vanishes, but not from the room. Lucifer can see his grace, a brilliant cerulean blur against the otherwise dull warehouse.

Elder Winchester is swearing, cupping his brothers face in anxious relief. They're embracing like long lost lovers, tight and frantic. Lucifer has no idea why, but he dose the same to Castiel. He is happy too, to find his brother safe, and okay, and with him. It's strange, this relief he feels as he reaches himself out to touch the Seraph. Castiel's whole body shudders with it, the remnant effects of Famine yet to wear off. He lurches forward, the mass of his grace colliding with Lucifer, in the void where they hide.

Castiel's human had craved meat. Castiel's grace had craved _touch_. Lucifer understands.

The little Seraph trembles with his need. For all that Gabriel has claimed Castiel to be unfallen, he _has_ been cut from the Host. The choirs of his brothers do no sing in his ear, do not whisper guidance. He is without the light of his Father and the love of his Brothers, and Lucifer cannot understand how he is yet to fall. To lose so much and still cling to the tattered, fraying strands of faith.

 

Instead of attempting to decipher the puzzle, he simple holds Castiel against himself. Lucifer will hold him till Famine's touch wears off, and Castiel is left with all his senses. He'll accept the horrified look Castiel will surely give him, for allowing himself to fall in the arms of the Devil. He'll ache when Castiel curses him, and flutters off in a rush. He'll do all this and more, for he too craves, like a burning man craves water, _touch_.

It happens exactly as Lucifer imagines. The mercury like liquid movement of Castiel's grace turns to steel. The seraph forces himself back into his vessel, materializing in all his pale, awkward glory before Lucifer. “I....” he stumbles over what exactly he should say. “I'm leaving,” Castiel dares, taking a step back. The distance does not help to alleviate his obvious fear, however.

It bothers Lucifer that Castiel should fear him, though he has so many reasons to do so.

“I won't stop you,” Lucifer confesses, shoving himself back into the tight, constricting confines of Nick. “Gabriel tells me you are not falling.” He throws the words out like a life line, and hopes that Castiel will catch it, and stay if only for a moment longer.

His fingers twitch at his sides, but Castiel stays. “His theory is that as long as I keep faith in my father, He'll keep faith in me.”

“Faith in _you_ ,” Lucifer echoes, spiteful incredulity curling his words with hate. “That would be akin to saying Father still has faith in me.” Because no matter how damaged it might be, Lucifer's grace was his own, just as Castiel still has his.

Castiel's head falls to the side, a curious cat-like gesture. “Why wouldn't he?” The Seraph asks. “You know what he wants from you, Elder Brother. You need but only ask it and it is yours.”

 

Castiel is gone even as the words spill from Lucifer's mouth, bitter and old.

“ _Forgiveness_.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter One for blanket disclaimer and warning
> 
> Spoilers for all of Season Five
> 
> Takes place during 5x18 with mentions of 5x17

 The next time Lucifer sees his brother, the change is painful. Castiel's grace is marred with the black stain of disbelief. The withering core of his faith is dying as Lucifer watches, sharp flairs of panic spiking through him like electrical shocks.

 

The room smells of Winchester -gun smoke and desperation- but Castiel is alone, alone and nearly broken. He has heard of course, through the demonic grapevine, that the Whore has been killed. He knows to that the Winchester have recently spent time among the celestial plain. If they think they can kill his Vessel without his knowledge, they are sadly mistaken.

 

Lucifer knows his brother senses his presence, but he does not acknowledge him as he stares into a trash bin with a look of utter pain. Baby Winchester is sleeping, a tiny line of Castiel painted between his eyes. He will not wake.

 

Lucifer, oddly, pays him no mind.

 

“He does not care,” Castiel says eventually, his eyes unseeing where they stare. His words are heavy, and slightly slurred, and he smells of Sin and tequila. “He sees the discord, and turns His eye. My faith means nothing. This world, it means nothing to Him. And now Dean is gone, and I am left behind. I put my faith in them both, and they have repaid me with abandonment.”

 

Lucifer does not know what has happened to cause such pain in his brothers voice, but it makes him rage. His skin tingles where it burns and breaks in his anger. He does not offered words of comfort -there are none- but instead, offers something else.   
  
“It was not I who released the horsemen.”

 

Blinking, his brother turns to him, wide eyed and shattered. “ _What_?”

 

Lucifer grasps his brother by the shoulders, burning fingers curling into the fabric of his trench coat. “It was not I,” he repeats, slow and firm. “What happens here is not God's Will or prophecy, Castiel. The prophecy has been forsaken.”

 

“It was the angels then.” The light behind Castiel's eyes explodes, fierce as fire. They shine with faith, faith that only moments ago was all but gone, and Lucifer is shocked to see that he has put it there. “That would mean that...that Heaven has abandoned _Him_.”

 

Lucifer does not startle, but surprise flairs none the less. He would not have thought to consider God, who is all things, could be abandoned. He cannot imagine losing love for Him. Faith, yes, but not love. It is true, however, that he is long since removed from Heaven. He no longer knows his brothers. This one though, standing broken before him, Lucifer sees.

 

“This Apocalypse begins, regardless of our Fathers hand,” Lucifer tells him, fingers still curled into his coat. “He will not clean the messes we make.” Lucifer is almost sure of this, after all when he himself released sin upon the world, God did not sweep it away. He let it be. Gabriel's words shudder through him with a strange pang. _'Then this world, the way that it is, is your fault.'_

Castiel looks up at him, alight with love and grace. It soothes him Lucifer's own, silver threads weaving through the tattered, frayed fabric of his grace. “I will not abandon Him,” Castiel tells him, resolute. “Dean might say yes, but I will do everything in my power and beyond to prevent Sam's acceptance. I will not allow him to say yes to you. I will die to save this world, I  _will_ .” 

 

The faith, the flair of defiance, the resignation that he will die, it is to much for Lucifer to hear. There is a strange frisson of fear in him that Castiel  _might_ die. It will not be at his hands, Lucifer knows that he has already been irreparably changed by his brother, since the moment he trapped him within the holy fire. The thought of finding Castiel broken and bleeding yet again, is too much for him to consider. 

 

“You could join me,” he tells Castiel, smoothing the worry from his voice. His hands slide upward from Castiel's shoulders, to cup his pale neck instead. “You could join me Castiel, and together we could clean this world of the filth and faithless. Make it beautiful again, for Him. A clean slate, a new Eden.” 

 

Castiel jerks in his arms, but Lucifer's clutch is to strong to fight. Defiance flairs again in his blue eyes, and it hits Lucifer in the gut, palpable and real. “I would rather die,” he says, solemn and hard. “I have fought to hard to see this world fall. I would rather  _die_ .” 

 

The words are familiar, slicing him open as deftly as any Angel's blade. _'I would rather die,'_ he told Him, so long ago.  _'Then bow to these filthy creatures. I would rather die.'_

 

He feels it then, the pain and sorrow and hurt. Pride and jealousy, searing him to the core, he feels it all, those things he felt as he fell. Defiance bright as fire; they did not call him the Morning-star for nothing. He sees himself in Castiel, but backwards, like a mirrors reflection. Castiel's love of their Father is a thing to be coveted; it is  _beautiful_ . Lucifer does not doubt a word out of his bothers mouth. Castiel would rather die then destroy the world. Lucifer won't hear of it.

 

He kisses him. 

 

Such a human thing, kissing, but Lucifer feels like he's been burned with the very light of God as his lips touch his brothers. It's a bright and burning thing, a cold fury that rips through him and leaves him feeling boneless and breathless. To his surprise, it's Castiel who slips his tongue between Lucifer's lips, pushing a little bit of himself  _inside_ of Lucifer. Castiel whimpers, frantic and needy and desperate for touch, even human touch. Lucifer gives it to him, pours himself into Castiel till the black and blue (so bruised, the both of them) of their graces collide. 

 

The lamp light bursts, glass shattering and falling to the floor, wholly ignored. Castiel clings, fingers curled tight into the front of Nick's jacket, as if he cannot keep himself from needing -wanting- more. Lucifer is overcome, full of Castiel, inside and out. He feels  _clean_ for the first time in a millennium. 

 

Castiel tears himself away with a gasp -Lucifer had expected this- and lurches back violently, his hip colliding with the night stand, glass crunching beneath his feet. “You...you do not get to do that,” he says, but it comes out broken, and question like. He looks as if he wants nothing more then to escape, eyes flickering to Sam, still unconscious on the bed. They both know Castiel would  _never_ leave Sam alone with the Devil, fresh vows aside.

 

Lucifer laughs brightly. “I'm the Devil,” he tells Castiel. “I do what I want.” 

 

As he leaves, he catches site of Nick in the mirror, his previously distorted and warped skin now smooth as silk. Castiel had healed him. The small kindness nearly undoes him, and he finds himself sidestepping into the Baby Winchesters dreams. 

 

Samuel is disoriented as the smooth, soft-edged dream he'd been having beneath Castiel's influence is shattered. “You,” he hisses, reeling back. “Get out of my head.” 

 

“I intend to,” Lucifer replies, smoothly. “But not before I warn you this, Boy King. Do not fail my brother. Do not let him down.” He grasps Sam by the collar, yanking him close and whispering in his hear. “For I swear if you do, Baby Winchester, what I do to you in Hell will make Dean's forty years look like a stroll in the park.” 

 

Sam swallows, eyes wide. “Are you....are you telling me to say no?” He asks, bewildered and terrified. 

 

“That is exactly what I am saying.” 

 

 

TBC


End file.
